


Stars and Stripes (and Starlight)

by allrealities



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: (and shares Shiro's mind & body), Absolutely Massive Quantities Of Self Indulgence, Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Spoilers, Avengers: Endgame Fix-It, Bucky Barnes is not a consolation prize, Fuck Fridges 2kFOREVER, Kuron (Voltron) Deserves Better, M/M, Not Beta Read, Peggy Carter is not a prize to be won, Takashi Shirogane is a Good Bro, VLD S8 Fix-It, confession of feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-03
Updated: 2019-05-03
Packaged: 2020-02-16 10:07:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18689329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allrealities/pseuds/allrealities
Summary: A detour into a very different place, partway through a very important errand.(Shiro shares some memories with Steve, and two epilogues end up very differently.)





	Stars and Stripes (and Starlight)

**Author's Note:**

> This is for everyone that felt hurt, betrayed, and devastated by either or both of these particular episodes/movies. 
> 
> All four of these dorks are as queer as all get out and you didn't hallucinate any of it.
> 
> No one belongs in a fridge, either.

Steve's only got the Power stone placed back where it belongs on Morag when he feels... it. He's not sure what 'it' is, but it feels a little like the stones are whispering to each other, somehow. Not to him, exactly, but _through_ him, and when he presses the button on his timehopper, reality does something _weird_. He flies through the tunnels that look even less real and a little more cartoonish, finding himself back at the lake again. 

Kind of.

It IS like he's in some sort of cartoon, almost, everything just that little bit more exaggerated and a little less detailed. He spins around but doesn't see any of his friends nearby - Bucky, Sam, Bruce - just the quiet, with some far off birds trilling and chirping somewhere beyond him. 

And a very, **very** broad shouldered man sitting on the bench, facing the water. 

An odd feeling of deja vu washes over him - for a moment, he thinks it's himself on that bench, still muscular as all get out even though his hair is white as starlight. It's not, though. This man holds himself a little differently, posture also one of someone used to command, but somehow more... relaxed. Instead of a right shoulder, there's instead a port of some sort, silvery white, a faint blue glow emanating from it, and below... some sort of... hovering prosthetic forearm. It's huge, the same colors as the port, as the fingers of it come up to push that white hair away from his face. The slash of a long scar over his nose gives Steve pause, and he thinks briefly of the Soldier's muzzle, suppressing a shiver.

He makes his way around the bench, making sure to be heard, getting a good view of a striking profile. He's shockingly handsome, Steve thinks, strong jaw and grey eyes, before the guy turns toward him with a bright grin. "Captain?" the man asks him, and Steve nods, wary. "I'm afraid you have me at a disadvantage, Admiral...?" Steve offers, going by what looks to be the full compliment of stripes on the black shoulder of his uniform. "You can call me Shiro. No need for any of those formalities here," he replies, waving at the other end of the bench with his flesh hand. 

Steve frowns in thought as he sits down, slowly. "Well then, you can call me Steve. And this isn't exactly where I'd tried to jump to," he says, turning so he can see his unexpected companion, and Shiro laughs, low and happy. "I imagine it's not, no. But maybe it's where you needed to jump to. A little trip down memory lane, if you like," he replies, and Steve huffs. Handsome cryptic admirals aren't on his list of folks to return the stones to. "I have a mission to get these back where they belong, Shiro. I don't have time for this," Steve answers snippily, the weight of five overly powerful objects all too heavy in his belt pouches. 

Shiro’s grin turns just a bit sharper, his eyes calculating (were they yellow just then? couldn't be), and Steve tenses. "You can't mean to tell me that you can't spare ten minutes for a conversation with the ability to control time and reality itself in your pocket, Captain. Stay and talk." Steve hears the authority that Shiro lets slip into his voice, and nods once. "Alright, _Admiral_ , say what you need to say," Steve tells him with a resigned sigh, and Shiro’s demeanor returns to serene and sunny. 

"Thank you, Steve. Let's just say you're not so different, you and I," Shiro says thoughtfully, and a series of images flick up in holograms - orange, instead of Tony's blue ones, but very similar. There's a much, much younger Shiro with a short, dark haired teenager, leaning against a pair of what look like floating motorcycles without wheels; memory-Shiro’s gripping his own forearm and looking pensively down at a device wrapped around it. Huh. The next image comes up: a fight between him and his partner, a slightly older man, and the mulish determination on this younger Shiro’s face makes Steve smile slightly. He might be onto something here about similarities. 

The teenager appears again in the next memory, taller and definitely older now if still significantly shorter than his friend. They're looking up at a rocket, being prepped for spaceflight, the teen's face shining with admiration as he looks between the craft and Shiro’s face, and Steve's heart hurts a little at the devotion there. "That's Keith," present-Shiro explains, and Steve can hear the love he has for him in his voice. He doesn't try to hide it, either, expression softening at the mere thought of his friend. "He's... a lot like you, too," Shiro explains, and a pair of memories appear then, Keith shattering records in some sort of flight simulator, and then - stealing Shiro’s car? Steve barks out a startled laugh.

Shiro laughs heartily at this memory, grinning helplessly. "Yeah. I met my best friend when he stole my damned car right out from under my nose. He's extraordinary," he continues, and the fond memories keep piling up: Keith stargazing on the roof of a building with him, Keith's shocked face when Shiro launches his hovering motorcycle off a cliff. Keith's delight when he learns the same move later and beats his friend to the finish line for the first time. Keith standing alone on the platform as Shiro boards the rocket for the scientific expedition he's undertaking.

"Do you see it, Steve?" he asks kindly, and Steve has to nod. "Yeah," he croaks, because it's tough to miss the similarities. Bucky saving him from - or jumping into - fight after fight when they were kids. A strange mix of deep friendship as equals with a little hero worship thrown in for good measure. "You're his Bucky," he says quietly, and Shiro’s smile goes sad. "More than you realize," he answers, and the next set of memories is bloody rather than rosy. The expedition's capture and enslavement; Shiro offering himself in place of his friend to the gladiator pits. Fighting, killing. Winning, over and over. The scars piling up on Shiro’s body, one by one and fight by fight: bites, gouges, gashes, stab wounds. Each time he wins, barely, and over time Steve sees that he has to start fighting exclusively with his left hand.

Shiro’s floating hand flexes into a fist, before he flattens it out again, contemplative as he looks at it before focusing his attention back on the memories. "My muscles were degenerating. The witch thought she'd try a few experiments before they let me die in the pits," he explains, a little bitter, and a hazy vision of a terrifying woman, hunched and purple and mostly hidden by her cowl, as his arm is cut off smack in the middle of his bicep; a prosthetic weaponized limb attached in its place. "I was their Champion. I fought so hard, and I was... not kind. I gave no mercy. I just wanted to go home. To keep my friends safe, my **planet** safe. I had to warn them. And eventually I was rescued," he explains, voice low and tired. There's a half-formed thought of hazy hallways and another huge purple alien, glowing golden eyes kind unlike every other one Steve's seen in his memories so far. "I made it back to Earth, and crashed in the desert. And wouldn't you know it?" he asks, and - this memory is hazy too, someone crashing into the lab Shiro’s strapped down in, the technicians flying left and right as his rescuer knocks them out and tosses them aside. "Keith," Steve breathes, as the now-grown man pulls the mask off his face, shock on his features as he gently grips Shiro’s jaw in his hand to turn his head. 

"Yes," Shiro answers, reverent. "My Keith, my rescuer, over and over. I'd say you can't imagine what we saw together after that, but..." and he trails off as a flood of memories cover the sky between their bench and the lake. A shack, where Keith's been hiding out, stringing together bits of information so strange they would have made him look mad if he hadn't already seen Shiro _literally captured by aliens_. A ship - a lion, an enormous robot lion, somehow also sentient and ancient and knowing. Escaping Shiro’s captors - his fellow officers from before, Steve notes with a familiar disgust - as they take off from the planet to the stars, through a portal to another part of the universe entirely. Aliens in a castle that's also a ship. Some sort of mustachioed castellan and a princess, tall and regal and brave. 

And then - more lions. Green, yellow, black, red. Fiery fierce Keith in his headstrong red lion, and Steve's heart warms to see him. Of course. They fumble as they learn to fight together in another memory, and he laughs as he thinks of the Avengers, learning to be a team under the pressure of an invading alien army. His own memory pops up then unbidden, and Shiro gives him a knowing grin. "Exactly, except not even Lance has an ego like Tony Stark," he says with a wink, and Steve laughs again as the blue lion fails to 'thread the needle', as it were.

They fall silent as the memories pass, except for Steve's gasp as the lions and their pilots finally form not only a cohesive team, but an enormous robot, taking out ship after ship of the invading forces. Steve smiles at the downtime he gets to see, too, Keith's obvious relief at the return of his 'dead' friend, and he can see the longing on his face and in those expressive violet eyes. Keith keeps silent on that, though, neck deep as they are in intergalactic war, until - a huge battle, the earth-shaking roar of the black lion, and lavender light so bright that it goes white - and then nothingness.

All the memories fade, and they gaze across the lake in silence for a moment.

"Was that..." Steve asks, voice thick - when did the lump in his throat form? - and Shiro nods. "We won, and I died. The effort tore me apart, vaporized me into atoms. My lion kept my consciousness alive inside of the astral plane, inside of her," he answers quietly, and it's like an icicle between Steve's ribs. "Keith never stopped looking for me, even when the rest of the team had long since given up," he continues, and Steve can see his eyes shimmer. "But. The witch made it so much worse," he continues, and Steve frowns as another memory pops up. People talking above Shiro’s head, not aware of or not caring that he's awake. "What does Kuron mean?" he asks, because it's the one word he doesn't know in that memory, and Shiro’s grimace almost makes him sorry he asked. "Project Kuron was... they cloned me. Sent the clone out into space. I think they let me escape. I'm... still not sure how I did, by then, if they didn't," he answers, and the long haired Shiro in this memory faces down tentacle monsters, what look to be smugglers, before finally being found - again, by Keith and this time his lion, too. "Tenacious guy," he says, watching Keith safely get Shiro? into his room to rest. 

Shiro’s laugh is quiet and heartfelt. "Looks familiar, huh?" he asks, and Steve smiles. "Yeah," he replies, thinking of Zola's table, of the cryo chambers, of Siberia, warm and sad thoughts swirling around and around each other.

The memories come even faster this time, separations and reunions and dozens of more battles, a strange and disconcerting argument after some strange, debilitating headaches - did he attack his teammates?? - in the castle before Shiro takes off again. Then: it finally stops at something vivid and chilling. A facility above a planet, embedded in some sort of moon. Keith, carefully making his way inside, knowing something is very, very wrong.

Steve chances a look over to his companion's face, and the tears have finally broken free to roll down his cheeks. Shiro makes no effort to hide them or wipe them away; they aren't something he's ashamed of. The memory is what he's ashamed of. Steve reaches over to gently squeeze his shoulder and leaves his hand there. A warm point of human connection. Shiro reaches his left hand up and lets it rest on top, accepting the kindness gratefully and silently.

The memory-Shiro's eyes glow that same unnerving violet that his hand glows when he turns it into a weapon. "Hello, Keith," he says in a frankly terrifying voice, cold and... empty, as he spots his friend. His _prey_. And that's when Steve can finally take in the entirety of the scene. 

There are hundreds upon hundreds of capsules, each agonizingly similar to the cryo chambers of Hydra's past, and Steve realizes there is a Shiro in every. single. one of them. 

He gasps and grips Shiro’s shoulder tight, his new friend shaking silently under his hand, as he watches memory-Shiro try his damnedest to murder his best friend, his most faithful and stubborn friend. He is cold, efficient, calculating; using both words and that weaponized arm to attack and cut as deep as possible. That Keith was worthless, that he should have abandoned him like his parents had. Steve feels his own tears start to fall when the clone has him disarmed and exhausted, half certain he's about to witness a tragedy, but if Shiro can stick out his own utter shame and darkest moment - for that's surely what this is - then Steve can keep from looking away, too.

The clone's hand turns into a sword, burning hot plasma, and just as it comes down he's shocked to see Keith get his own blade back up to block it. He's crying, he's exhausted and so clearly struggling with the very last of his energy. They strain against each other, the clone telling Keith to let go, but Keith keeps fighting on. "Shiro, **please**! You're my brother. I love you!" he shouts, tears glimmering as his arms shake, and shock strikes the clone perfectly still for a moment before he presses on again. "The team's already gone. I saw to it myself!" he hisses, sword finally so close to Keith's face that it sears the flesh, and Steve sees Keith's eyes flash yellow and catlike before a burst of strength has him shoving the clone back, staggering and off balance. Keith's blade has gone from assassin's dagger to a long sword, and in that brief moment he swings up and severs the clone's prosthetic arm. 

Steve can't help the gasp that comes out of him, tears flowing freely from the pair of them as Keith gazes back at this... this simulacrum of his best friend, love and heartbreaking sadness on his face. "He knew it wasn't me. He knew it wasn't really me, and he saved me anyway. He could have gone for so many kill shots but he refused to truly hurt me," Shiro manages between quiet sobs, Steve crying silently beside him. They watch on as the facility crumbles around the memory-pair, the look of fathomless despair on the clone's face as he slumps and falls unconscious, Keith hanging on for dear life to both his blade and his friend's body, refusing to give up on him to the last. 

And it's Steve's turn to gasp in shock and sob as the platform finally gives completely, Keith still clinging to his blade in one hand and Shiro’s wrist in the other, as they fall together toward the surface miles and miles below. He covers his mouth with his free hand, watching as they tumble together, as Keith makes his choice to die with his friend rather than live without him. "No. No. Nonono," he whispers, watching Keith close his eyes as the brilliant light overtakes him, Shiro still shaking with sobs beside him, and... and-

The black lion roars, as earth-shaking as the very first time, and they're cradled safely in her enormous metal jaws, the clone's still body wrapped tightly in Keith's arms as she brings them back to the castle, back **home**. 

Steve doubles over then, gasping as he sobs, both hands covering his face as he shakes. He can't - he can't stop crying, over these friends torn apart time and time again, somehow joined again through time and space and death itself, and he feels the large, warm hand on his back, soothing and kind. It hits so close to home that he might as well have a bullseye on his heart, this pair that's the best mix of him and Bucky, and he aches for them - for Shiro and Keith, yes, but also for Bucky and himself. Shiro very gently pulls him back up again, just a suggestion that he sit up, and he goes easily to rest against his new friend's side, under his arm as his sobs finally start to subside. "Watch," Shiro whispers into his hair, Steve's head resting against his shoulder, and Steve isn't sure his heart can take another scene like that.

He's never backed down from a challenge, though - _except one_ , his mind supplies, and he pushes it down again - and the next memory comes up. Everything is a cool, glowing lilac - somehow a good glow, he knows, not the murderous color of the witch and the killer arm - and Keith and Shiro are somehow both... made of this light. "Where are we?" Keith asks, and Shiro smiles at him sadly. "Black's consciousness. The astral plane, I suppose?" he explains, and the lion rumbles affirmatively around them. "I died, Keith. When we fought Zarkon. I was... just cosmic dust, but she pulled me in here. She kept my consciousness inside hers," he explains hesitantly, setting a hand on Keith's shoulder. "Am I dead, too?" Keith asks, not sounding particularly upset about it, and Shiro shakes his head. "You're alive. The c... my body is alive, too, barely. But we made it. You saved me," he answers, voice almost a whisper, and Keith's relief is palpable. 

It fades into a memory of them on the surface of a planet, the other pilots (Paladins, he thinks, they're space paladins) around them, the princess looking between Black and the clone's very still body. "Will you let me take him out, friend?" she asks, and Black's enormous metal head nods as her eyes glow. She extends one massive metal paw forward, close enough for the princess to be able to rest one hand on it and the other on Shiro’s forehead, head cradled on her lap. Keith kneels next to his friend, hand gently resting on his chest, and closes his eyes.

The light is blinding - so white it's silvery, the lion's eyes radiant with it as it surrounds both Shiro and Allura - that's right, that's what Keith called her as he explained as fast as he could when they landed. 

There are so many names for Steve to keep track of.

The glow grows until it's all they can see, and then - it's gone. 

And a heartbeat later, Shiro gasps and convulses upward, every visible hair on him gone a shocking, brilliant white. Keith catches him as he falls, slumping into his friend's arms where he knows it's safe, cradled to his chest as long, slender fingers stroke through his hair gently. "Keith. A-Allura?" he manages, head swimming with confusion, and she slides around to the side. "We're here, Shiro. You're here," she says gently, and he smiles at her briefly before drifting into unconsciousness. 

"He's still in here, too. My... other self. He woke up on our journey back to Earth, and we've... learned to coexist. He came out a little, earlier," Shiro says mildly, as his eyes glow yellow briefly, "but we're... we're one, now. And I was scared what that meant for us. For our friendship with Keith. But he loves me and us just the same." Steve finally sits up again, back at equilibrium after letting years and years of grief pour out - fresh and old both - and turns to Shiro again. "After we finally won, it was a time of... limbo. I didn't know what to do with myself. I've been fighting for so long, Steve, and then it was just over. What do you do with that when you can't remember how to do anything but fight?" he asks, and his eyes are kind, but searching. Calculating, again, and Steve feels more seen than he's comfortable with.

"Do you know why you're here now, Captain?" he asks - _they_ ask - and Steve hesitates. He feels so close to the answer, but not quite. "I'm not sure," he answers honestly, and they smile back. "You're at a crossroads, just like I was. Like we were. After the war was over, and we wandered from reality to reality to set things right that the witch destroyed, we had a... a choice. An opportunity to be brave, that we'd been ignoring, deliberately, and it was time to stop pretending. There was no war to hide behind anymore," they explain, and the image of Keith comes back again, fighting for all of their lives in a facility that should never have existed. "He called me his brother, and I took that at face value for my own sanity. I couldn't think about it or I wouldn't be able to think about anything else, and we had a war to win. But I saw. While we were traveling. What... would happen if I was too much of a coward to ask him if that's what he really meant," Shiro explains, and the image of Keith fighting turns into his own memory.

The Soldier - Bucky - punches him again and again with his metal fist, cold and incredibly hard, and Steve is fading fast. "Then finish it," memory-Steve says, voice faint and pained, "'cause I'm with you, til the end of the line." He can't. He can't fight Bucky, can't hurt Bucky more than he's already been hurt. He'd rather die than cause his long lost best friend another ounce of pain, and then the helicarrier collapses underneath him, as he falls to the burning river below. 

Shiro’s eyes shimmer with tears again as he turns back to Steve. "In the realities that Keith and I don't exist in, there's the two of you. Always. But never have I seen so much keep you apart as in this one, Steve. But..." he explains, trailing off as he looks for the words, "but you're about to separate yourself from him, this time. Because you're tired. And traumatized. You need to rest, and heal, and your hindbrain is trying to flee somewhere that you feel like you can do that." 

Steve sits there, shocked. "How did you know?" he asks quietly, feeling his defenses go up. "Because I almost did the same thing. The lions showed us all possible outcomes, after we won, before they went back to the stars," Shiro explains, and he laces his fingers together in his lap. "I could continue pretending that Keith meant only a brother, and in that outcome: I met a man. We got married, I retired. At twenty eight. I cared, I suppose, but it was a shadow of what I felt for him. I was restless, useless. Divorced within a few years, and my friendship with Keith was never the same. Because the one time I needed to have a damned spine, I didn't," he goes on, turning those sharp grey eyes back to Steve. 

Steve feels his hackles go up, because it's not fucking fair to have someone see him that clearly. "And if you did grow a goddamn spine?" he shoots back, because okay, at least they're both cowards, dammit.

Shiro doesn't take an ounce of offense. "If I ask him what he meant, he goes quiet. And he smiles at me, and tells me he'd be my brother, if that's all I wanted. Through this life, and the next, and the one after that. And then he tells me that's not all that he wants. And he takes my hands, and smiles at me. Keith doesn't smile at anyone else like that," he explains, and his own smile is softer than anything Steve's seen today. His heart hurts a little, just to see it, how tender this powerful man can be. "And this is that same crossroads for you, Steve. You can go into the past, marry your girl. Have the picket fence and the kids and the dog. Found your organization together, the one she founded when you died. Leave the friend you rescued again and again behind, to become the man out of time," he says thoughtfully, and again the icicle slips between Steve's ribs. 

He goes quiet for a long, long moment. "I'm so tired, Shiro," he finally admits, tipping his head back and pinching the bridge of his nose. "They died. They've been dead for five years and... I was too. I haven't felt alive in five years and now I don't know how to come back again," he continues in a whisper, as the tears threaten to come back. The hand is back again, on his shoulder this time, and Steve lets himself take comfort from it. "You stay, Steve. You stay with the people that love you, that haven't already lived their whole lives without you. You carve out your niche and family in the present, and eventually one day you'll wake up and everything won't taste like ashes. Let yourself slowly absorb the fact that they're alive, and they will be for a long, long time yet," Shiro tells him, firmly but kindly, huge hand still warm on Steve's shoulder. "And for the love of anything, you get some damn therapy and deal with your trauma. No one has been through anything like you had to deal with before the titan won, but plenty of people have dealt with the aftermath. You aren't alone. Find someone qualified to help you. And tell your own formerly brainwashed soldier that you want to kiss him, and then drag him to therapy, too," he finishes, shaking Steve's shoulder with one final, gentle squeeze before he lets go. 

Steve stares up at the sky, blue and beautiful. "I'd say 'what if he rejects me', but you seem confident that won't happen," he muses, thinking of Bucky's face by the side of the time machine. The memory comes up for the both of them, and now that he's out of the moment itself he can see it: the strain on his best friend's face, hiding behind his smile. The sadness in his eyes. He thinks he might have even seen it then, but he chose to pretend it wasn't there, pretended it was all okay just like Bucky did. "That man wants nothing more than your happiness, Steve," Shiro tells him softly, studying Bucky's face, and he smiles sadly. "And he'll paste that smile on and put one foot in front of the other, if you don't want him. He'll do that until he really is okay again. But don't you dare think he doesn't want you, Steve," he says with finality, and the memory changes to one from long, long ago, Bucky only twenty and beautiful and so young, looking at Steve with naked affection as they tease each other mercilessly. Then another: Bucky coming out of cryo in Shuri's lab, blinking in confusion until Steve's face comes into focus, his smile spreading slowly until it's bright as the sun outside. "Stevie," he breathes, and real-Steve sits there dumbfounded.

Oh.

"I'm such a dipshit," Steve says as he hides his face in his hands. "There it is," Shiro tells him cheerfully, slapping Steve's back a few times to drive the point home. "You're one to talk," Steve mumbles into his hands, shaking his head at how utterly and humiliatingly dense he's been for - well, at least a decade and then some, if they're only going by defrosted time. "Ah, I am one to talk, friend, because I was that same dipshit just a few months ago. We know our own, right?" he offers with a laugh, and okay, fair. Steve can accept that. "You get those stones where they need to go, Captain Steven Grant Rogers, and then you get your ass back to your friends and the best man you've ever known. And you tell him how much you love him. Okay?" Shiro asks, as Steve lifts his splotchy red face from his hands and huffs out a laugh. "Deal...?" he asks, waiting patiently, and Shiro wraps his hand around the back of Steve's neck and brings their foreheads together with a gentle thud. "My name is Takashi Shirogane, Admiral of the Galaxy Garrison, Captain of the sentient ship Atlas, and the other biggest dumbass in all possible universes," he intones gravely, and they laugh together quietly at their shared headassery. Steve grips his shoulder hard and nods against Shiro’s forehead. "I'm glad I met you, Takashi Shirogane. Thank you. For... for understanding everything. Understanding me," he says, squeezing his shoulder hard, before disappearing into time again with a mission to complete. 

"Who knew Captain America could be so dense?" Shiro muses to the sky, before closing his eyes and smiling, opening them again from the consciousness of the Atlas. He rolls over and wraps himself around his still-sleeping boyfriend, content to lay awake with an armful of Keith and a faceful of Keith's soft, messy bedhead. Lotor's ship was set to arrive early, after all, and Allura surely wouldn't let anyone sleep in late for that. Not her OR Lance, for that matter. 

\----------

Steve puts the sheer, unadulterated weirdness of the last hour behind him as best he can. If he thinks about any of it before he gets back, he will unravel, and he can't afford that now. Can't afford to generate whole new timelines because he can't keep his shit together just a little longer.

Each stone goes remarkably smoothly until he travels to Vormir, finding himself face to face with Johann Schmidt's ghastly self, and he drops the stone into the water at the base of the cliff. He walks down slowly, slowly, ignoring the presence at the top, the one doomed forever to haunt this place as one of the damned - he deserves no less than that. And he closes Natasha's eyes gently before he collects her body, unchanged in this awful place, and holds her close as he presses the button on his little timehopper to take them both home.

He feels the platform materialize under his feet, and he breathes out one last shaky breath of the air from that accursed planet, before the body in his arms convulses violently with a gasp. Steve almost fumbles her then in his shock, but he manages to keep his grip as he lays her down gently, looking around wildly for anyone still around, but Bruce is already running to the both of them, wild-eyed and a little extra green. "Holy- holy fuck, Bruce, I just meant to bring... her _home_ ," he starts, before Bruce nods frantically as he scoops her up, eyes rapidly filling with tears. "Hang on Nat, I gotcha, I gotcha," he says, sprinting with inhuman speed toward Tony's infirmary. 

Good place, Steve thinks as he stands doubled over, hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath from... everything. Everything. Everything is so much right now, and Steve's about four heartbeats away from a panic attack. Bruce has Nat, though, Bruce has Nat and together he and Tony can figure something out. That's what they do. They. They fix stuff. Impossible stuff. 

He hears Bucky's voice, though, quiet and low, ask him "Steve?", and he forces himself to breathe through his nose and slow down as best he can. "Hey, Buck. Hey. I'm h- I'm home," he manages, shaken to his core at the fucking resurrection that just happened in his arms, and Bucky makes his way up to the platform to help him back down again. "Yeah, pal. You sure are, he says with wonder and naked relief, pulling Steve in for a hug that he doesn't seem inclined to ever end.

Steve's okay with that, one hundred percent.

A few moments later, Steve feels another pair of arms wrap around the both of them, and he worms an arm free to wrap around Sam wordlessly, the three of them in a long, silent hug before he pulls away again. "Gonna go make sure those eggheads don't need another set of hands," he offers quietly, voice warm with amusement, and Steve takes it for the opportunity it's presented as. 

"Buck," he says, pulling away just enough that he can stay in Bucky's arms and look him in the eye, too. "You... you knew, didn't you? That I wasn't gonna..." he trails off, and Bucky swallows loudly, finally managing a nod. "Yeah, Stevie. I knew. I'm, uh, I was real fuckin' surprised to see you on that platform, honestly," he says, hoarse with near tears, and Steve hates himself for ever making Bucky feel rejected. He hopes he's got time to make it up to him.

"I had a weird damn day, Buck. After I took the first stone back, I... I'm still not sure where I was. It didn't look entirely real, almost like I was in a cartoon," he starts, and Bucky's listening, nodding and frowning as he explains, his eyes going bigger and bigger as Steve explains about the very handsome man on the bench and his tales of sentient robot cats and their adventures. "That's... a helluva story, Steve," he manages as the tale winds down, and he cocks his head as he studies Steve's face. "That's not all though, is there? You didn't just hang out because he spun a good yarn, did you?" he asks, eyes roaming to read every part of Steve, and Steve shakes his head. He watches his best friend steel himself like he's going into battle, swallow, and meet Bucky's eyes again.

"No. No, there's more," he says, and he nods to himself. "Bucky. I am so very, very fucked up right now. I died when you died," he starts, swallowing a sob, and Bucky starts to open his mouth until Steve shakes his head sharply. "No, let me say this. The last five years was sheer hell. The time before that without you was hell. And the time before that. I'm tired of losing you, over and over. I need to... to stop, for a while. I need to heal, finally. I don't know what it's like to not just exist. And I want to. I want help people rebuild, and heal, and... and I don't know, after that. But I need this. I need time. And I need to... to tell you," he rambles, trailing off as he hunts for his own words, before just bringing his hands up to cup Bucky's scruffy jaw gently. 

"Oh," Bucky breathes, and Steve can see how he's letting himself feel hope, just the tiniest bit, before he leans in to brush the lightest kiss over Steve's lips. "Yeah, oh," Steve confirms, and this time they both move toward each other with confidence, grinning against each other's lips before pressing them together again, gently, again and again.

Steve breaks the kisses soon enough, though. "I mean what I said, Buck. I. I need a fuckin' therapist or ten like no one's business. But... I want this, too. Wanna learn how to live again, wanna be with you. If you'll have me. I know I'm pretty fuckin' dense sometimes, but... I'm gonna try to work on that too, y'know?" he says, voice quiet and hopeful, and Bucky gives him a wide grin. "You're my dense, stubborn jackass, Stevie. Of course I'll have you, sweetheart," he replies with a relieved laugh, knocking their foreheads together before he pulls away to plant a long, lingering kiss on Steve's forehead. "You're stuck with me," he whispers into Steve's skin, and he can't help the laugh that bubbles up when Steve wraps him in his arms and hefts him off the ground.

Life's funny like that, he thinks, and if he thanks every star in the sky hoping that the handsome admiral hears him somehow, well, that's no one's business but Bucky's.

(He does.)

**Author's Note:**

> I used to say I didn't know how to write, or that I was worried that I didn't know enough to write everyone in character. 
> 
> Then I watched VLD's epilogue and Endgame, and realized that people getting paid shitloads of money to do this don't know either and then I felt much better about myself.
> 
> Also: I love the idea of Shiro as an admiral, and I do what I want.


End file.
